#top brain supplements

[magicalhuabl]

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[forgotten-daydreamer]

Took twice the max dose of melatonin before the final revision for tomorrow’s exam, I’m shitting my pants and I genuinely don’t know anything as thoroughly as I should but if I sleep less than 4 hrs before it I just know I’m gonna do even worse somehow

[patnaneuro]

As the age grows, we tend to forget things. Sometimes, forgetting small things doesn't matter a lot.

But, if you notice you’re forgetting important details, and daily activities there might be something else going on. Do you constantly forget where you’ve kept things?

Has it felt like you’re forgetting important dates you had no problem remembering before?

Do you forget directions to familiar places? If you’re having trouble with things mentioned before, you should see a psychiatrist in Patna, Dr. Vivek Pratap Singh. 

Dementia psychology

Dementia is a broad category characterized by mental decline as one ages. It’s a cluster of syndrome affecting thinking and memory abilities.

Dementia is more prominent as one ages. But, secondary dementia can manifest whenever depending on the cause.

As one ages, the risk of dementia grows. That leads to many asking questions like can i prevent it? Are there steps to curb its growth and symptoms? 

How to prevent dementia and memory loss?

Dementia’s major risk factor is growing age. Old age can’t be prevented. So, rather adopting other ways can help just as much. 

Regular physical activity puts one’s general health in good condition. It’s one of the best ways to improve blood circulation in your heart, and all the other organs. Being physically fit has shown a positive impact on mental well-being of a person. For someone, who doesn’t take care of their fitness, it can be hard for them to perform activities that enhance physical well-being. This is the reason one should find activities that are accommodating and comfortable for them so that they don’t have a reason to break the streak. 

Eating a healthy diet is immensely vital for the brain to get adequate nutrients and vitamins. Try eating a varied range of different foods for the best results. For example, foods like wholemeal bread, and rice have a good amount of required nutrients. Almonds are a great source of a vital brain nutrient called L-carnitine that increases brain activity and prevents neurological decline. 

Fishes like salmon, and mackerel are rich in iodine and other minerals, and omega-3 needed for optimal brain function and reduces risk of stroke and various other heart diseases. Walnuts contain minerals, melatonin, and omega-6 that slows cognitive decline and reduces brain inflammation.

Don’t drink too much alcohol. It slows down cognitive abilities and neuronal function. Drinking alcohol in heavy amounts can cause alterations in neuronal size and shape. 

How to avoid dementia and Alzheimer's?

Dementia and Alzheimer's are associated with growing age. Dementia is a symptom of Alzheimer's disease where the individual’s memory and important mental functions go through a gradual decline. These symptoms start manifesting in older age. Hence, if one has a family history, or knows they are at risk of this condition, they should follow ways that can prevent the early-onset. Following are the ways to prevent alzheimer’s:

Blood pressure control during midlife crisis can save not only from cognitive decline, but even reduces risk of stroke. Try to aim for systolic pressure to be below 130 mm/hg. 

As global warming affects the world, there has been a link associated with air pollution and dementia. Avoid harmful gases and inhalants, and try not to go out where there's a high risk of toxic inhalants such as company and industrial sites. 

Smoking has always been a culprit in one’s health. Tobacco is the most harmful substance one can introduce to their body. Even if it’s too late, stopping smoking can never be. Smoking cessation helps reduce the risk. 

Traumatic brain injuries are major secondary causes for dementia. Avoiding accidents to your head, by wearing protective gear while playing or driving can help a great deal in preventing injuries to the head. If one has sustained any kind of injury to the head, make sure to visit the GP to rule out concussions or delayed hemorrhages. This type of dementia manifests immediately without any warning.

How to prevent dementia in old age? 

Dementia is associated with memory loss that most often is noticed by someone else. Gradually, the individual has to depend on someone else for daily chores and this can lead to people getting anxious and upset. A lot of people get more and more depressed with old age, adding dementia on top of that is a recipe for disaster. Preventing it can somehow control a bit of damage. The various ways to prevent dementia are 

First and foremost, limit alcohol and smoking to a bare minimum. Researchers have found these substances damage the brain and its neurons. Smoking harms the blood vessels in the brain causing a negative impact and memory decline. 

Mental and social activities help the brain relieve stress and cope with aging mood changes. Try doing activities that stimulate brain cells developing thinking and memory skills. This way the brain is challenged and it remains active reducing the risk of dementia. 

Treatment: 

Treating already progressed dementia can be done through medications. A lot of people ask questions, can you slow down dementia with medication? The answer is yes. There are some medications that can slow down dementia like cholinesterase inhibitors such as donepezil, and rivastigmine; these medications reduce the breakdown of a chemical in the brain that is responsible for memory functions. 

Antidepressants (SSRIs) are given to improve mood symptoms such as depression and anxiety brought on by dementia. 

The supplement to prevent dementia is memantine, a brain chemical that is for memory and learning. Dementia targets these chemicals so the physician might prescribe it to improve the symptoms. 

Dementia is a grave disease that can push a person to the brim of depression and in severe cases, suicide too.

So, if you or your loved one is suffering from dementia please contact the best psychiatrist in Kankarbagh, Patna, Dr. Vivek Pratap Singh. He can counsel you about the condition to the best of his abilities. 

[thoughtmatterrinc]

Super Intelligence Quest: Nootropics & Science Insights

Explore the journey towards super intelligence with nootropics and cutting-edge science. Unlock your cognitive potential today!

[vampiricgf]

— v. lycaon | stay soft, get eaten

·₊̣̇. ⊱ warnings: fem reader, dubcon, aphrodisiac, yandere, oral fem receiving, clit sucking, cervix fucking, knotting, creampie, extremely unrealistic depiction of sex, he calls you master n is a lil obsessed with you, not edited/proofread

wc: 2k+

the grip he has on me is insane now if only he'd be gripping up this [REDACTED] sobs

You were so lucky to have an attendant as well prepared as Lycaon. After spending the evening unable to sleep, angrily listening to birdsong as the light peeking in from the window grew less and less subdued, he had suggested you take a simple supplement and attempt a nap upon seeing you still laying in bed at his arrival. After all getting rest was the most important thing and if something would come up he could easily handle it for you without letting you rest excessively.

Just enough to be able to get through the day yet still feel appropriately tired come night, that was what he promised after handing a small tablet to you which you gratefully accepted. Lycaon had been sweet and thoughtful from the moment he started at your estate with the Victoria Housekeeping contract, and was always so adamant about remaining at your side.

When the room begins to soften at the edges you don't question it, it may be a mild effect from the pill or your own deprived brain. Focusing on the beat of your heart was easier, keeping your eyes closed as you remained tucked into bed. A heaviness spread through your limbs, delicious and reminiscent of a sleepy cat in the honeyed afternoon sun as you roll onto your back to stretch against the warm sheets.

The brush of them against your skin sends an unfamiliar sort of heat spreading beneath the surface of your body, an odd feeling of wishing it was replaced with physical touch, yearning suddenly for a certain thiren that you knew wouldn't be far from your bedroom.

You try ignoring the growing ache between your thighs, uncomfortably turning over and over from side to side as the temperature rises. Before long you have to thrash the covers off to rest barely covering your legs, nearly panting with the volatile mixture of desire and no sleep.

Thinking of calling for him you bite your bottom lip, a small whimper coming from low in your throat. As you struggle with the inappropriateness of the urge little do you know he's just opposite the bedroom door, listening intently to you with barely contained self satisfaction thrumming through his veins.

It's hardly appropriate for an attendant to be pining after their master, but say you were feeling struck by some overpowering need, what kind of attendant would he be to refuse if you begged for his help? Truly he'd done it on a whim, it just so happened that today was the perfect opportunity to act and perhaps it was simply fate.

"Master?"

His voice jolts you out of the thick fog of lust as he steps through the doorway, unable to bear the sounds of you whimpering for him any longer. With quick steps he's beside you, a hand coming to rest delicately against your forehead which nearly makes you moan from the contact. Your skin glistened with a sheen of sweat and the scent of your arousal was heady in the balmy air, if he were less composed it would've made him drool instantly.

"Are you ill?" Faux concern laces the words as his eyes trail from your face to your heaving chest, your top having bunched up just beneath your breasts was a tantalizing challenge to his self control.

"I can't sleep- feels like I'm on fire," you whine, your eyes fluttering closed and he's grateful for the chance to ogle you openly.

"Do you require my help?" The tone of the question leaves little room for interpretation, the almost breathy way he asks betraying how clear your neediness is to him.

It should make you embarrassed, you should wave him away with a demure no I'll be fine but you can't bring yourself to speak the words aloud, nearly choking on how much you ache for him to touch you again. In a distant corner of your disconnected mind you wonder if thirens can smell things like arousal and perhaps that's why he offered. It makes your thighs clench together hard, the muscles flexing beneath the skin. How lucky you were to have someone so dedicated to attending to your needs that he'd even offer.

"Wouldn't be- appropriate-" you force the words out between deep breaths, desperately trying to regain some self control as your eyes find his.

He looked so handsome knelt by your bed, his singular visible eye shining with concern. You want to smooth the worry from his face with a hundred deep, frantic kisses, so powerful is the urge it's more like being gripped by madness.

"You don't need to worry, as my master I can't let you remain in this state without intervention." The words are so syrupy sweet to your ears, his voice low and sending delightful shivers down your spine.

If he's saying it's okay then why worry about impropriety? Once again you can't help the surge of thankfulness at his presence and his loyalty to you.

Gingerly he grasps your hand in his much larger one, bringing your arm up before placing the softest kiss to your inner wrist. The sensation of his lips against your skin is enough to make you squirm, back arching slightly just from the barest contact.

"Mm, don't know what's wrong with me," you breathe harshly as his mouth maps a trail from your wrist up your arm, your shoulder, and before you register it he's above you and those clawed hands are roaming the overheated skin of your stomach and it feels like every sense you have is being overcrowded by him.

If you had the wherewithall you would have perhaps been ashamed to be so openly writhing and moaning beneath him with your hands fisting in the material of his shirt but given the way he makes you feel like you'll crack apart in the next millisecond there was simply no room for things like humiliation or shame.

"Will you let me help you, my master?"

The request is accompanied by the feeling of him sucking on the side of your neck, sharp teeth barely ghosting over the delicate flesh he could easily rip. Why does everything feel so much more sensitive than usual? If you could think straight it would be a more pertinent question, but against the feeling of his hands cupping your breasts and urging you to help him remove your shirt the concern washes away like sugar in hot water.

In a way Lycaon is glad for your habit of wearing little to nothing in bed, because it feels like this is exactly what you wanted to happen. Each evening it was like the single greatest test of his resolve to not immediately give in to the urge that screamed to rip those skimpy clothes off you and fuck you until your pretty eyes were full of tears and that tongue of yours was only good for sounding out his name.

And he hadn't lied earlier, not fully. That pill would help you with your sleeping troubles eventually but the less than mild aphrodisiac effects would kick in first. It's no concern though, because that's what he's here for, to service you as his master. And so what if it happens to be a shockingly convenient avenue for satisfying his own desires? Who could blame a devoted attendant for loving their master so greatly?

As you shift your hips impatiently he's all too eager to indulge you, hooking a hand beneath your thigh and pushing one leg up in order to slot himself better between your legs and feel the tantalizing heat radiating from the apex of your thighs.

You can feel the way his bulge throbs against you through your clothes and it's exciting, like his body is begging for just the same release as yours and his movements have taken on a more predatory tinge- caging your body with his forearms on either side of your head now, nipping and sucking at your bottom lip in between sloppy kisses and the rhythmless, frantic grinding of his hips against yours.

"Want you, please," it leaves your lips as a pathetically desperate whine as you roll your hips to meet his in a pantomime of unclothed thrusts. Feeling his erection strain against layers of clothing has only served to make you feel even more delirious, like you're on fire and he's all that could hope to put it out.

"Like this?" The question is needy, nakedly desperate and it makes your fingers claw against his soft fur, pulling him down to kiss you again in a flurry of teeth and tongues.

You give an airy mhm and his head dips down to your chest with a particularly sinful groan, teeth ghosting over the swell of your breast before his hands are on you again, nearly ripping the flimsy pajama bottoms off of you in his haste to get you undressed and knowing you're so impossibly close to finding relief for the all consuming ache in your body makes you sigh contentedly for the first time as the air brushes against your clammy skin.

His movements are quick, snaking down on his belly and brushing his nose against the skin of your inner thighs. You can hear the deep inhale he takes, feel the way your body flushes hot in response. His hands run up and down your feverish skin, riling you up and when his tongue licks a fat stripe all the way up your flesh until his face is pressed against your pussy you can't help the way you moan his name so brokenly, a sound more akin to cracking porcelain.

And it's then that his self restraint seems to snap cleanly in two, his claws nearly digging into your thighs, nose bumping against your achingly puffy clit as his tongue delved inside your soaked entrance. It was impossible, feeling him as deeply as you were and he wasn't even using his fingers. Your own twisted into the bedsheets so hard they should have torn, your mouth open as your hips bucked wildly against his face.

Soon enough he held one arm across your hips to pin you down and lessen your squirming, alternating between lapping at your clit and sucking on it, his sharp canines occasionally brushing dangerously against the sensitive bundle of nerves. With every drag of his tongue it felt like a coil winding back tighter and tighter inside your gut, hands fumbling to touch any part of him you could grasp as he retained his unrelenting pace never wavering in the attention he lavished your pussy with.

And all too soon he's pulling away from you, leaving you to keen high and pathetic at the loss of him, panicked eyes frantically locked on his figure as he drags himself back up to face you. Before you can whine too much he's shushing you with a deep, languid kiss and giving you the secondhand aftertaste of yourself on his tongue. For a brief moment you wonder if you've died and this is the afterlife: one long satisfaction of desire.

"I don't mean to tease, but I need you in another manner master." And you don't need to to ask what he means, feeling what must be his painfully hard erection rubbing against your bare, soaked cunt. Thrilled eagerness skips like electricity through your bloodstream, already rolling your hips to beg for it before your mouth even opens.

And like the wonderful attendant he is Lycaon obliges before you have to say a word. His hands deftly shed his clothes, now rumpled and twisted, before discarding them on the floor in a heap. Your bottom lip catches so hard between your teeth at the sight of him it's a miracle you don't draw blood.

Even in your most vivid fantasies there's simply no way you could capture just how gorgeous he was, and you can feel your eyes widen as they settle on the sight of his now freed cock. The tapered tip, flushed red and needy, glistening with precum, the girth of him enough to make your eyes water, and the length promising that he can easily kiss that spot inside you that turns your vision to static.

You could start drooling from how badly you need him inside you, a fresh wave of overzealous longing battering against your mind like waves against a rocky coastline. As he leans down, supporting himself on one forearm beside your head you meet his eyes again, seeing an amused look on his face that made you squirm in embarrassment at being caught so openly admiring him.

The scent of arousal and sweat is so thick in the air even you can catch it, it must be driving him insane. The thought nearly makes you giggle but the press of him against your entrance cuts off any sound you could hope to make, mouth left hanging open as he starts the slow press inside. Tears instantly push against your waterline, threatening to spill both from the painful adjustment to his size and because nobody has ever made you feel so full before.

He's barely midway inside and you're already panting, chest heaving as you mewl out his name and grab onto his shoulders like he's the only stable thing in the world. Your fingers find purchase in his soft, snowy fur and as his swollen, fat knot settles against your entrance you feel a rush of the most perfect bliss. Like you two were made for each other.

The delirious thought takes root as he kisses his way from your lips to your jaw, down your throat before giving you a few gentle nips with his teeth just to make you gasp and tighten your grip on him before he begins moving.

His pace is slow, almost loving, as you feel every vein as he pulls out only to inch back inside you with ease now thanks to your excess of arousal mingling with his saliva. You can't help the way your toes curl against nothing but the air as you move to grab onto your own thighs, desperate already to feel him deeper and once again, Lycaon follows your whims dutifully.

You can't help but cry out incoherently as he presses into you again and again, the head of his cock hitting so far inside you it nearly knocks the breath from your lungs.

But it's still not enough, and you feel that coil resume it's firm windback into position, almost ready to spring.

"Please, feels so good," you gasp out, "need more- harder -" you squeal with a particularly deep thrust against your cervix and ever the gentleman he doesn't make you ask again.

Groaning low and gravelly he cages you fully with his forearms, burying his snout into the side of your neck as the obscene sounds of skin slapping and the squelching of your greedy cunt drown out anything else. Distantly you hear his claws ripping through the sheets but you can't be bothered to care, not when he's got tears running down your cheeks and your pussy clamping down on his so hard, desperate to keep him inside.

You can feel him throbbing as you curl your fingers deeper into his fur, crying out his name as the tension inside your belly reaches a head, making your eyes screw shut and your head press back against the pillows.

His own ragged breathing doesn't register to you, so lost in the throughs of your own orgasm, but his teeth are gritted, bared in a silent snarl feeling the way you clamp down, the way your walls rhythmically try milking him for all he's worth and in an instinct driven haze his hips move in an even more brutal pace, sure to leave bruises against your tender flesh as the maddening need to cum inside you overwhelms him.

There's no way he could stop himself now and he muffles your cries with sloppy, apologetic kisses, tasting the tang of saltwater as his knot finally pushes it's way in, sitting securely against the ring of muscle at your entrance and he can't stop himself from saying your name against your lips, again and again like a mantra as thick, warm spurts of cum drown your womb.

You remain locked together, you a mess of hiccuping moans and shaking from the aftershocks of your orgasm and him grinding against you as if he could still fuck more of his cum even further inside you.

Your ankles shakily lock around his hips and one of his arms slides under your back, hand finding it's way down to grope and squeeze your ass as he whispers to you, words of thanks for indulging him and for allowing him to be of service that swirl dreamily around in your head as your fingers start gingerly stroking against his silky fur, soothing the spots you had twisted and tugged.

In a far away corner of your mind you recognize that this is the first time he's ever used your name to address you. It makes you smile, small and twinged with sleep. You know once he's no longer inside you he'll adamantly clean you up, move you to a different space and ensure you can sleep comfortably while h tidies your wrecked bed.

But another part of you wonders if you could convince him to forgo it all and just stay like this, warm and tangled together.

Maybe if you ask sweetly.

[csuitebitches]

Things I Have to do for My Sanity

1. Wake up at the first alarm - no snoozing and no going lying around in bed. Getting up straight away and head to the bathroom. It’s going to suck initially but you’ll get used to it in a few days.

2. Mental self care: 30 minute meditation, brain games mental math, reading, news. Knowledge is sexy and don’t deny yourself sexiness.

3. Daily review in my diary at the beginning and end of my day: what went well, what didn’t, what I need to accomplish to achieve my goals. This has tremendously helped my goals and keeping my motivation more consistent, especially at work. Analysing and correcting incremental changes creates long term success.

4. Cleaning up before bed - clothes, shoes, organising my bag, etc. I set a timer for 5 minutes and try to get as much done as possible.

5. Pick out my clothes the night before and steam iron them for the next day.

6. Face masks twice a week, a hair mask once a week, I scrub the soles of my feet with that foot scrubbing thingy once a week. Manicures every month because my nail beds are too sensitive to do it biweekly, iron supplements so that I’m not a moody bitch. Matching underwear to feel good about myself. Lavender spray on my pillow before sleeping so that I don’t get weird dreams.

7. Reading biographies and autobiographies. My mentor had suggested this to me and it’s amazing how literally I don’t have a single original experience - everything I’ve felt or mistakes I’ve made have already been done by someone else.

I’m going to curate a list of business books that I feel that have helped me the most recently.

8. I write a short essay everyday in the language I’m currently learning. I also end my day by talking about my day for at least 2 minutes in that language and I record it in voice memos to keep a track of my progress. I want to be fluent to a level where I can think in this language.

✨

I don’t generally share a lot about my personal life - none of you know my name or where I’m based and I feel comfortable doing that. But I do want to start giving out more insights to what I’m doing personally in my career - the good, the bad, the ugly.

Being self aware and honest to myself has helped me improve a lot. I know that shame is my Achilles heel, so now I’m reading books to combat that. I’ve caved in and decided to try therapy for a bit to see if what I’m doing is useful or not. My first session is tomorrow. Staying disciplined was my initial hurdle but the systems I’ve set (waking up early + habit stacking) have helped me slowly overcome that.

Work side, I’ve started establishing myself publicly more. I don’t want to reveal too much about what I do exactly but the good news is that our biggest competitor has noticed my progress (a former employee of that company came to us for an interview and directly asked our top management about me). It’s been 4 months that I’ve been working here but I know that next year I really have to swing the bat and hit a home run. I’ve decided to work on the field more and less in the office to really understand people’s needs and create unique solutions.

The daily/weekly/quarterly diary is definitely credited to my recent wins. That’s the biggest change I’ve made in my routine and i can already see that it’s working well. I’m going to continue refining and implementing that method.

Recent work methods I’ve decided to start working on (I’m not required to do these but I do it for my growth):

1. I’ve started studying popular companies’ business and revenue models in detail. Everything is adoptable and adaptable, you just have to figure out how to tweak something for your company’s clients and needs. Now I’ve decided that I want to keep a track of our competitors, their business models, their owners names, pricing strategy, their target audience etc etc on an excel sheet so that I’m aware with what’s happening in the market. 

2. I’ve started making client profiles. Every time I meet a client, I note down their name, the company name, what they were like, anything specific they seemed to like or want, how much they had paid us for a service, what their paying capacity could be, etc. 

[shigarakisbabyy]

The MHA Boys x A Constantly Cold Reader

I’m always cold, so this is a bit self indulgent lol. Gender neutral reader!!

Warnings:

Izuku Midoriya

If his hand ever brushes up against yours and it’s freezing, he’ll grab your hands to heat them up and will hold you close

Does a bunch of research on why you might always be cold and ways to help keep you warm

Loves to walk into your room and see you laying under 15 blankets, he thinks it’s so cute and you look so cuddly

Will gladly hug you or cuddle you to help warm you up

Always remembers to make sure you take a jacket whenever you guys go anywhere, even if it is the middle of summer. He’s always prepared

If you’re also in the hero course, he’ll come up with ways to incorporate a heating device into your hero costume so you don’t freeze while on the job

Eijiro Kirishima

Bear hugs ALL THE TIME

You cannot get this man off of you

“It wouldn’t be manly for me to leave you to suffer and be cold!! Baby lemme warm you up!!”

You’ll cuddle him by shoving yourself inside his hoodie and laying on top of him

Always has an arm around you in public 

Buys you a bunch of hoodies that are oversized and super cuddly to help keep you warm (and he thinks that it’s adorable)

Katsuki Bakugo

Acts like you being cold is an inconvenience but really it gives him an excuse to cuddle you and hold you without admitting he actually wants to hold you

Always keeps a jacket for you on him at all times

Whenever you shiver he’ll set little explosions off on you to help warm you up

Whenever your hands are cold he’ll grab em and warm em up for you

He’s probably always very hot, so you both even each other out to create a nice neutral temp when you cuddle

Shoto Todoroki

Always keeps you on his left side. If you try and move over to his right he will simply not let you

You’ll cuddle up to his left side and feel so toasty and warm, it helps him start to appreciate his fire quirk too :)

Will gladly give you his jacket if it means you won’t be cold

Offers to buy you the best insulated jackets and heaters and anything to help keep you warm

He sometimes uses you to cool off

Denki Kaminari

He buys you an electric blanket that generates heat and powers it up himself

He’s already a pretty touchy guy, but whenever he finds out how could you always are he has an excuse to be hanging off you way more often.

Likes to hold ur cold hands when his brain is fried cause it helps him ground himself

he calls u his il’ icebox

Hanta Sero

This man loves it so much cause it gives him an excuse to constantly be cuddling you

“My love…. Ur so cold… let me warm you up please?”

Only lightly teases you

He will scream if you touch him with ur cold feet in bed

He loves cuddle dates with you <3

Fumikage Tokoyami

Dark shadow always cuddles up to you to try and keep you warm, even when Tokoyami tells them otherwise

He will give you his hoodies allllll the time

Writes poetry abt it probably

Hitoshi Shinso

“Dang, you’re so cold. Mind if I warm you up?”

Always holding your hand

He hates when you touch him with cold feet or hands but he never tells you to stop cause you think it’s hilarious

blanket fort for sleeping. He will cuddle you and not let you go even when ur not tired.

Tenya Iida

Tries to lecture you on ways to stay warm

Probably tries to get you tested for anemia or take iron supplements

He never lets you leave the house without a jacket, even in the summer time

Just in case

He has space heaters all over the house or dorm in case you need them

[illdowhatiwantthanks]

The Eggplant (The Surprise, Part 18)

Emily Prentiss x fem!reader Warnings: nightmares, mentions of Emily's fake death, mentions of past sexual trauma (nothing graphic though), discussions of birth/delivery times (let me know if I've missed anything!) Word count: 2.1k

Summary: You've always struggled with sleep and nightmares, but the third trimester is making it worse than ever. Thankfully, Emily is always there to calm you down and take your mind off the bad dreams.

Note: I know the gif is the man that we can't stand! But it was the most appropriate one! Just use your imagination! Replace him with reader!

Week 28: The Eggplant

You jerked awake, gasping and flailing, struggling to sit up against the weight of your baby bump. Sweat pooled in the dips of your collarbone and at the nape of your neck, dampening the soft strands of hair that rested there.

You blinked in the darkness, sucking in great gulps of air, feeling for Emily next to you. She was already up, already pressing her hand into yours and squeezing your palm, already drawing you into her chest, holding you protectively.

“Hey, hey,” she cooed, “it’s okay. You’re alright. It’s just a dream.”

Your heart raced, and you snaked your arms around Emily’s waist, burying yourself in her. You coughed, your breath still caught in your throat. She ran her thumb gently along the side of your face, wiping away the tears that lingered from the dream.

You’d always had more vivid dreams–and more often–than the average person. As a child, you’d even been diagnosed with a sleep disorder characterized by horrific nightmares. It had faded, but not gone away, as you grew up. After a lot of trial and error, you’d discovered that taking ashwagandha supplements before bed largely put a stop to the nightmares.

But you weren’t allowed to take ashwagandha while you were pregnant or breastfeeding. You’d been lucky until now–the nightmares had been few and far between, despite not being able to take your usual sleep aid. But when you hit the third trimester, they’d come back in full force. Almost every night, horrifically realistic, so terrifying that you were often scared to go back to sleep afterward for fear the dreams would resume. You’d tried melatonin, Benadryl, Tylenol PM, Unisom, and doxylamine. Tonight, you’d tried magnesium. The only thing it’d done was make you have to get up and take a shit in the middle of the night.

Your heart rate was slowing, but your body still shook. You grasped onto Emily’s t-shirt desperately, as if it was the only thing tethering you to the world. Sometimes the dreams involved your family. But most often these days they were about Emily.

“I guess that’s a no on the magnesium, huh?” Emilly whispered, her breath warm at the top of your head. “You want to talk about it?”

You let out a shaky breath, holding her just a bit tighter. “You died again,” you said, your voice so soft she almost couldn’t hear you. You were afraid to speak it into existence.

You could see Emily’s face without seeing it. Always wracked with guilt, always heartbroken. She always told you that going into WITSEC after Doyle, letting you and her team believe she was dead for nearly a year, was the worst thing she’d ever done. There had been no way around it; you knew it and she knew it. You didn’t like to bring it up, didn’t like to make her feel bad. She’d done what she had to do to protect herself, and as much as her fake death had devastated you–destroyed you, even–you couldn’t bring yourself to hold it against her.

“It was Doyle,” you whispered into her neck. “He made me watch.” You shuddered, and Emily grasped your face in both of her hands, turning you gently so she could look you in the eyes. She brushed a strand of hair out of your face and sighed.

“He’s dead, honey,” Emily said firmly. “I will never do that to you again.”

A tear ran down the side of your face, part of your brain still stuck in the dream, still watching Doyle hurt Emily again and again. Emily wiped it away, replacing it with a kiss.

“It’s okay, baby,” she reassured you, her heart aching to see you so scared. “I’m okay. I’m safe.”

“I’m sorry, Em,” you choked out, more tears coming now. It was three in the morning. You were on your second week of waking up terrified every night. Emily always got up with you. She had to be tired. You were exhausted. “You should go back to sleep.”

“Nope,” she protested lightly, drawing you down to the bed with her, pressing your face to her chest. “No crying, come on. It’s okay. You’re up, I’m up. Shh, just let me hold you, alright?”

You leaned into her touch, relishing the way her fingernails felt against your scalp, the weight of her arms around you, the steady rhythm of her heartbeat, the up and down of her breath.

“What’ll help?” she asked. “You want to get your mind off it? Think about something else?”

You nodded, sniffling.

“Alright,” she yawned, stretching a bit to reach inside the drawer of her nightstand. She pulled out her tablet, the light from the screen making you blink.

“What are you doing?” you asked, blinking.

“We might as well get something done, if we’re up,” she said, cradling your head in the crook of her elbow, so that she could manage the tablet and keep you close at the same time.

She opened a Google doc that she’d titled Birth Plan.

“Birth plan?” There was a series of questions and fill-in-the-blanks on there, as if Emily had copy-pasted it from another website. “I thought the plan was to have the baby. That’s the birth plan.”

She pinched at your stomach, and you giggled, squirming. “No, you dork. There’s more to it than that. And I’d rather us make the decisions now, so when you’re in labor, freaking out, we don’t miss anything.”

“I think you mean when you’re freaking out during labor.”

You watched her roll her eyes and smiled. You loved teasing Emily.

“Okay, well, regardless of who's freaking out, we need a plan. So just… lay your pretty head down and answer my questions, okay?”

You kissed the inside of her arm and nestled yourself comfortably against her. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Alright, let’s see…” Emily said, brows furrowed, biting at the corner of her lip. Her thinking face. She meant business. “Full name and pronouns, I already know that. Partner’s name and pronouns… Due date, provider… I can fill all this out without you.”

“So then, the birth plan really is just have the baby?”

“No!” Emily insisted, scrolling. “Here. Here’s some you can answer. Have you ever… had group B strep?”

“No.”

“Been previously diagnosed with genital herpes?”

Your face went beet red. “Jesus, Em! No!”

She smirked. “I know, I just wanted to see you blush. Uh… do you have Rh incompatibility with the baby?”

“I don’t think so? I feel like Dr. Delgado would have mentioned it by now.”

“I’m putting no. Gestational diabetes?”

“No.”

“Fear of needles?”

“No, not really.”

“Have experienced–” Emily stopped suddenly, her voice stuck in her throat.

“Experienced what?” you prompted. When she didn’t answer, you poked her leg with your foot. “Emily, experienced what?”

“It’s okay,” she mumbled. “I can answer that one for you.”

“Well, now I want to know…”

“It’s fine, Y/N. Let’s just move on.”

“No, Em, I want to know!”

She sighed and bit at one of her nails. You furrowed your eyebrows and took her hand.

“Have you ever experienced birth trauma or prior sexual assault,” Emily read, her voice soft.

“Oh.”

You were both quiet for a moment, your thumb running over Emily’s knuckles. “Well, I guess you did know the answer for that one…” you said, trying to lighten the mood. “Let’s keep going.”

Emily shook her head a bit, as if clearing clouds. “Uh… delivery plan… I’m assuming vaginal?”

You nodded. “What are the other options?”

“C-section or water birth.”

You shivered. “Yeah, definitely vaginal. I think I’d cry if I had to give birth in a kiddie pool.”

Emily cracked a smile, and you were glad to see her getting back to herself. “Who do you want in the room with you?”

“You.”

“Well, yeah. Anyone else, though? Your mom?”

“Just you,” you confirmed, kissing her hand.

“Whatever you want,” Emily confirmed, continuing down the list. “Do you want any music played?”

“Screamo.”

Emily laughed. “Can you imagine?”

“Alright, I’ll settle for punk.”

“I’m putting TBD,” Emily decided. “Okay, this next part is a big, long checklist, so just say yes or no, I guess.”

“Okay,” you agreed. Your heart rate was almost back to normal, your breathing calm and even as you snuggled into Emily. You were starting to feel sleepy again, and were trying not to fight it, not to let yourself get scared again.

“Lights dimmed?” Emily asked, making her way down the list.

“Uh… I guess so?”

“Room as quiet as possible?”

“Minus the punk music, yes.”

Emily fought off a smile, running a hand absentmindedly through your hair. “As few interruptions as possible?”

“...Yes?”

“As few vaginal and cervical exams as possible? Yes.” Emily’s voice grew quiet again as she read this one, and you squeezed her hand to let her know you were okay. “Hospital staff limited to my doctors and nurses only? I’m putting yes for this one, too. I don’t want any fucking students in there watching.”

You yawned, closing your eyes as you pressed your cheek against Emily’s chest. You were having a harder and harder time staying awake.

“Do you want to wear your own clothes?”

“Yes,” you mumbled.

“Your glasses?”

You looked up at her, confused. “As opposed to what? Loaner glasses?”

Emily shrugged. “No glasses, I guess?”

“No. I can’t see shit without my glasses. The baby would just be a blob.”

“So yes to your glasses… Do you want me to take pictures?”

“Of me giving birth?!” you exclaimed. “No!”

“But you’ll look so beautiful!” Emily argued.

“I’ll look like a hot plate of shit,” you shot back. “In fact, I might actually shit myself during labor. I don’t want any photographic evidence of that, thank you.”

“Fine,” Emily grumbled. “Putting no. Would you like to stay hydrated with clear liquids and ice chips?”

“What kind of question is that?” you asked, fighting off another big yawn. “Of course I want to be hydrated.”

“Do you want to eat?”

“I don’t know. Depends on how long it takes, I guess.”

“There’s no box for maybe,” Emily observed.

“Make a box, then, Emily. Jesus. You work for the FBI.”

“Mean…” she mumbled.

“Sorry. I love you.” At this point, you were half-asleep, Emily’s voice far away, as if you were underwater.

“Do you want me to catch the baby?”

“Catch the baby? What are they tossing it?”

“No, like… as he’s born.”

“As she falls out of my vagina?!”

“...Yeah.”

“Not really. I want you up with me so I can squeeze your hand and yell at you.”

Emily was quiet, and you grabbed for her hand, blinking your eyes open.

“Unless it’s important to you,” you told her. “If that’s something you want to do, then by all means.”

“No…” Emily thought out loud. “But I think I’d like to cut the umbilical cord, if that’s okay with you?”

You nodded, getting comfy again, sleep infringing on the edges of your consciousness.

“Do you want him placed on your chest right away?” When you didn’t answer, Emily prompted you again. “Y/N?”

She looked down to find you conked out, snoring softly, your arm wrapped around her stomach, legs entwined with hers. She smiled softly at you and kissed the top of your head, sneaking her hand under the fabric of your shirt to rub your back.

“I’m putting yes,” she whispered, typing quickly then turning off the tablet and setting it gently on the nightstand, careful not to shift too much and wake you.

Emily adjusted the covers so that you’d be nice and warm. She wasn’t a praying person, but she hoped against hope that you’d sleep through the rest of the night. You had huge circles under your eyes from so many nights of restless sleep. Emily was used to running on little sleep, but you weren’t. And you were growing a baby. You needed more sleep than usual, and you weren’t getting it.

She pressed her lips to your head again and again, making sure you were secure in her arms. She couldn’t go into your head and fight off the nightmares for you, but she could make sure that if and when you woke up, you felt safe right away. She could make sure she was there, make sure that the moment you gasped awake, you felt Emily next to you–real and alive and warm and very, very here.

[onelittlespiral]

FML: Process Heavy

It started off so simply. A friend emailed me a link to a YouTube video promising to teach me about how to get some quick muscle. We had been swearing for months we were going to get on a consistent schedule to go, we just never did. I watched the 20 minute long video quickly. I hardly even noticed when it was over. But I felt energized enough to go on a run. That’s how it would start. I would watch the next video in the series and time would simply slip away. 20 minutes. 30 minutes. An hour. I started noticing changes, little things out of place. My water bottle half drunk in my car. Tee shirts in the laundry when I swore I washed them. Some new supplements I didn’t remember buying. It wasn’t until I popped one on Friday night and came to Monday morning fresh from the shower that I really started to get concerned.

At that point, I began noticing the physical effects. My previously smooth body had begun sprouting hair all over: my chest, my face, my arms, my ass. My voice easily dropped two octaves, deep and bellowing. And the muscle. They were not joking about growing muscle quick. My arms swelled as biceps, triceps, and forearms strained against my taught skin. Abs formed a cobblestone path down to a deep V. Firm pecs we’re established, but not for long. They continued to swell and stick out, heavy and juicy. They were almost hypnotic, the way they would jiggle as I walked. But that was nothing compared to my butt. Bubble would hardly describe it, they were pillow-like. A soft mix of muscle and fat filled out a rear that you could bounce a quarter off. Every part of me swelled and filled with power. That was when the smell really set in. No matter where I was, what I was doing, or how much I would wash I would catch this smell coming off of me. It wasn’t bad, in fact it was deep and masculine in a way that I couldn’t quite describe, but it drove me wild none the less. And I wasn’t the only one. Other bros around me would kind of drift off into their own worlds, with a distinct outline pushing against their pants. I’m not kidding dude, my boss drug me into a meeting last week. He started complaining about how my work was slipping but after just a few minutes he was basically in his own world as he just kinda leaned back in his chair and let it all hang out. I asked if I could go and he just kinda waved me off. There was a faint moan behind me as I closed the door.

At this point whole days were slipping by before I even registered they had started. It was this weekend that I somehow came to during one of my episodes. I was in the sauna in a gym I didn’t recognize. Two bros were in there, zonked out of their minds on my scent. But I realized that wasn’t all. In their state, laid back, sprawled on the bench, mouths hanging open, I saw a stream of liquid dribbling out of one guys mouth. Thick and viscous, I immediately knew the sight of jizz. I stumbled out of the room, leaving my towel behind. I texted my friend who sent me the videos in the first place. I hadn’t seen him since this had all began and I needed answers. I felt my scent catch up with me, tickling at my brain to go back into whatever trance I had been under. I wrapped a fresh towel around my nose and threw on the stringer top, shorts, and sandals I had in my locker. When had my feet grown so big? Free balling, I stormed out to my car and drove towards my friend’s place. When I arrived, the door was almost suspiciously unlocked. Who greeted me inside though was not the curly-haired, lanky, nerdy friend I knew.

He was ripped, oozed confidence, and passed a beer into my hands before I could even process.

“What, not what you were expecting? You didn’t think I would let you have all the fun did you?”

I knew then that this was all his design, his plan for me. I wanted to leave but, every small twitch of this man mesmerized me. Instead, he pushed me onto the couch, covered in his sweaty workout gear, and I began to sip on my beer. He looked me up and down, assessed me like a piece of furniture he wasn’t quite sold on.

“Well, I think you’ve processed long enough. I think it’s time to see what all that training has done.”

He pulled his shirt off and sat facing me in my lap. I was glued to my seat as this man tore my top off of me and pressed our exposed bodies together. My mind tried to to resist but my body betrayed me, as he raised my chin, slid his hand around my neck, and pulled my lips to his. I was enraptured. Our tongues danced as he began exploring my body with his hands. Quickly, he had my arms thrown behind my head as sweat trickled from my pits. He buried his face in and gave them a good sniff.

“Fuck babe, you’re ripe. Not as ripe as these though.”

He threw an arm back and guided my face to his pit. If my scent was good his was pure heroine. It consumed my mind as I felt my cock strain against my shorts. As I worshipped that stench, it kept growing and throbbing. My mind shut down, giving into raw pleasure. Nothing else mattered, I could live on this high alone. In this state, he pulled me out of his pit and asked:

“You want to live like this? You want to be controlled by your master’s scent?”

Fuck I did. Anything, I begged him, please. He gave me one last kiss as he walked out of the room, a video now playing on the TV.

“Then watch”

I felt myself slowly draining. A familiar voice droned out of the speakers, and I was throbbing for the release he would give me. In moments I was floating on nothing but the instructions of my master, and the scent of his used jockstraps lying around me…

Anyone who met you now would have never guessed how you started. A scrawny guy, stressed day in and day out at your corporate job, and cripplingly lonely. Any memories you had of that life were left somewhere in an apartment, nothing but dried cum on the floor and wall. The new you was sexy, outgoing, and confident. You worked out non-stop and did everything your master said to. You are dumb and obedient, with not a thought behind that flirtatious wink. But above all, you are horny. And guys can smell it. They can’t do anything but relax and submit, prostates being milked as they moan for more. The best get brought home and watch a few videos before being sent out into the world. Flex, fuck, propagate.

[kaidatheghostdragon]

Halfas and Fear Gas

Ive seen a lot of "fear gas makes danny high." Its hilarious and i love it. Other variations i recall seeing are: fear is not as potent, complete immunity, 'food supplement' fear gas, and the boring 'effects him like normal.'

BUT.

I haven't really seen anyone treat effect effect on the brain and core as separate processes. In other words, humans get affected one way, ghosts get affected another way, and halfas get blasted by both.

We already know how normal humans are affected, so we dont really need to go over that. Ghosts, however, are free reign. (Unless there's a canon incident where a ghost like boston brand or gentleman ghost are exposed to a fear gas attack? Any DC canon nerds out there that know of something like that?)

The options I've seen or thought up so far:

Complete immunity - ectoplasm just doesn't react to physical matter in a way that impacts the ghost. Fear gas, as in the chemical itself, has no effect whatsoever.

Effects ghosts like humans. Straight forward, it's a bit weird if you think about it, but eh.

Fear gas, as in the chemical itself, is like ghost weed, or perhaps something stronger. Might be hallucinogenic, but in a bad trip sort of way rather than a worst fear sort of way

Fear gas, as in the chemical itself, is accidentally a super effective health suppliment for ghosts

If emotions are food to ghosts, fear gassed humans can span the range between 'delectable snack sprinkled with extra sugar' to 'weird chemical food that isnt healthy but will still sustain you' to 'supercharged health snack completely saturated by nutrients'

Fear gas, either the chemical itself or the people affected by it, has a distinct smell. It could be good, bad, or neutral, possibly related to how it affects the ghost. (Or deceptive, for humor and/or angst.)

Fear gas is outright toxic to ghosts. Perhaps the chemical itself is similar to, but just left of, ectoplasm. Like many artificial chemicals that can substitute various nutrients / usurp metabolic pathways in humans, it could have any number of mild to debilitating, short to long term effects on ghosts.

(If anyone has another idea, feel free to add)

Now we get to halfas, who have both a human brain and a ghost core. Dany has a human body and brain that are affected normally by the fear gas: hallucinations, panic attack, adrenaline response, etc etc. Someone better at biology can describe the actual biochemical processes going on.

But the ghost core? Added on top of All That? Can be excessively angsty, somewhat mitigating, or outright hilarious.

Going through the list of options:

Complete immunity.

This sounds boring, but its actually my favorite. Why? Because danny is getting conflicting signals. His brain is compromised and in full panic, but his core is telling him that he's completely safe. As a hybrid, Danny could be capable of having critical thought with both organs. If he's clever enough to recognize the seperation between the two, he can exploit it as a sort of anchor (I'm imagining it somewhat like how a multitasker can do different things with different senses, like listening to an audio book while solving a jigsaw puzzle - the book is auditory, the puzzle is visual and tactile, neither interfere with the other.)

Danny, in this scenario, is definitely in an altered state of consciousness, seeing things that aren't there and right on the cusp of panicking or defending himself. But if he can recognize that his core is unaffected, he can focus on the sensory input that his core is processing, and the whole situation might be somewhat equivalent to becoming lucid in the middle of a nightmare - its terrifying, but just the recognition that it isn't real takes the edge off. To him, it's now like being stuck in a VR horror game and being unable to take the headset off, flinching at all the jumpscares but recognizing that his body isn't actually being attacked or injured.

Affects ghost like humans

Danny could either be affected exactly the same as anyone else or effectively double-dosed as both brain and core fight entirely different hallucinations. Maybe if danny is lucky, he'll just black out from the sensory overload.

Ghost weed

This could make what was initially designed to be a really bad trip into something catastrophic... or mellow it out. Idk. I've never done recreational drugs. Both the brain and core are cut off from reality. The brain is terrified, and the core is tripping out. If his core naturally reacts to his emotional state, it's gonna amplify the effects, which is Really Bad. If the core is compromised to a point where it can't really process anything, then Danny is still trapped in a nightmare state, just more loopy and otherwise no worse than any human.

Health supplement and/or literal food

This one is confusing. Brain is terrified, core is satiated? Energized? A boost to his powers is gonna make him much more difficult to contain and treat. When he comes out of it, there's real potential for angst from danny worrying that the conflicting emotions of absolute terror and hunger satiation are a sign that he's turning evil. Especially if his core was instinctually feeding off of the fear of nearby civilians who were also gassed during the trip. That undercurrent of predatory satisfaction is gonna leave him awake at night for a few weeks.

On the plus side, feeding his ghost core might help it clear out the toxin faster, so the trip is much shorter. Maybe he even pulls out of it before he accidentally causes any damage with his powers.

Smelly

Pretty straightforward. If it smells bad, Danny is automatically gonna hold his breath, limiting his exposure. If it smells good, he might take a good few wiffs before realizing what's up and holding his breath, or just keeps dosing himself more and more as that effects, good or bad to the core and definitely bad to the brain, settle in.

Toxic

Has the potential to be much more long-term and insidious. You can run the full gamut here. Does he need to be restrained and taken to the far frozen for days or even weeks of treatment? Does the ectoplasm incorporate the drug, and Danny has to suffer weeks or months of microdosing until it's used up, turning him into a paranoid schizophrenic during that time? Is it blood blossoms 2.0? Does it have no mental effects but screws with his powers? Does it influence his emotional self-control? Does he grow the ghost equivalent of a tumor that encapsulates the toxin and has to be surgically removed? Does he need supplemental ecto to remain healthy, temporarily, or permanently? Does it affect his ectosignature or peak power level? Injure his core? Lower his healing factor?

All of this is on top of the initial fear gas trip, which he may have never even fully pulled out of. The angst possibilities are endless.

Then, there are liminals who have the potential to be affected like halfas or in an entirely different way. Does your headcanon give them proto-cores or baby ghost cores, or are they just severely ectoconaminated? How would that change their symptoms?

Anyways, just some ideas for people to use. My favorite idea so far, that I'd love to see someone use, is that Danny has learned to use his separate brain and core as insurance against mind control and mind-altering drugs. The freakshow incident was a sort of catalyst that helped him recognize the differences between his brain and core, and he taught himself how to lean into one or the other for various advantages in different situations. (Sort of like how a person can lean on either logic or intuition to make different types of choices.)

There's a lot of interesting potential here. Essentially, Danny could teach himself to be immune to mind-control and greatly resistant to drugs, as he can evaluate his surroundings with both organs and identify differences. Mind control wouldn't work unless it targeted BOTH brain and core, as he could shift to the uncontrolled one to break away. Any drug designed to knock out or roofie a human is countered by the fact that danny's core still remains conscious of his surroundings, and creative use of ghost powers counters the accompanying paralysis.

If ghosts dont sleep, one could argue that Danny's core is in a meditative state when his brain rests, which is why his ghost sense can wake him up from a dead sleep - he's never fully unconscious. Workoholic danny could find a way to get homework or paperwork done, or solve a problem, or design a piece of tech, or even play a videogame, while 'sleeping,' even using ectokinesis to move stuff while his body is sleep-paralyzed. Sleep-deprived danny is still functional because his core isn't affected by his brain's lapses in consciousness from micro-naps. (He is a lot moodier, though. His core is more emotion-focused while his brain is more logic-focused, on top of the normal mood-swings from sleep deprivation.)

This version of danny, after being fear-gassed, immediately recognizes that his brain and core are suddenly experiencing two different realities. He would be able to talk himself down from a panic attack and slowly find his way to safety. He probably wouldn't trust himself to hold back if he got in a scuffle, but he would be coherent enough to vaguely understand his surroundings to avoid danger.

And lastly, something I dont recall seeing in any fics - if the bats encountered fear-gassed Danny, and he's aware enough to refuse an antidote, I dont think the bats would push it. Yeah, forcing more medical trauma on our favorite blorbo is all good and fun, but he clearly has an altered metabolism that was affected differently by the fear gas than normal, so there's a heightened risk that the antidote would also have an altered affect, for the reward of removing the effects of fear-toxin (which is no longer guaranteed), which danny is already showing he's capable of working through.

On top of that, medical professionals are not allowed to force treatment if the patient refuses them and can walk it off. (If they are unconscious or can't get up on their own, they can intervene.) Medical conditions and allergies are a thing too, and its the priority of the patient to inform the medical worker as soon as possible to prevent complications. Jazz may have coached Danny about "in a medical emergency, declare closet-meta status with highly modified metabolism and unknown reactions to most drugs."

I see the conversation going something like:

"If you can hear me, im going to administer an antidote."

"Dont. Give it to someone who actually needs it."

And then the bat treats everyone else before approaching danny again to ask how they can help. They would be trained to take all of this into account:

Human male, visibly uninjured (unless the fic writer has different ideas) experiencing non-standard reaction to fear toxin. Probable indication of meta or enhanced status.

Victim is cognizent, replied to verbal communication, denied treatment. Appears to be managing the effects of the fear toxin. Not currently a danger to themselves or others.

Nonstandard reaction to fear-toxin implies potential non-standard reaction to antidote. Victim may be aware of medical condition that could complicate treatment, and is reasonably stable at the moment. Further questioning needed.

There are other victims in the area that are less cognizent, they become higher priority. Approach victim again when all other victims are cleared out, (in case of uncontrolled meta powers, to avoid further casualties), ask more questions and ascertain situation.

Once questioned further, danny drops the memorized line about altered metabolism and unknown effects, and giving Danny the antidote basically immediately becomes a non-viable option. They will probably argue Danny into being taken to Leslie's clinic, as he'll refuse a hospital (probably quite hysterically, given the fear toxin), which i'd imagine is the bat's normal protocol for closet-metas.

At least, that's how I imagine the situation panning out. Danny noping out before the bats return to him or during mid-interrogation is also extremely likely, which is gonna put the bats in panic mode for the next several hours. (Going to *any* secondary location with the bats is a non-option to Danny, for many potential reasons.) Danny is definitely going on a watch list (as in, possible meta with unknown powers, keep an eye out in case he gets caught up in another rogue scheme, need more information).

[sriracharocks]

Tom Riddle as an Academic Rival - Headcanons

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

"You believe you can surpass me. How adorable."

Smirks at you whenever he notices your nose buried in a book in the Great Hall because he has already finished preparing for the exam

He finished it like a MONTH ago

He knows you're wayyyyyy behind and struggling to keep up with him because his pace of studying is not normal

"I'm Tom Riddle, darling. You can't dethrone me even in your wildest dreams."

Is completely calm on D Day while you freak out with frizzed up hair and crinkled robes because you ran out of time to look after yourself in the morning

Can't really blame you; you were busy revising your notes after all

Absolutely slays in his exam

Come on, you knew he would; you saw how he took so many supplements to write his answers in his elegant cursive

That completely freaked you out because even though you were far from an average student, you didn't write as much as he did

Manages to finish early even after writing so much, while you submit your parchment on the dot

Smirks at his report card, satisfied that he got an O

Looks over at yours and his smirk grows so big, you want to slap it off his face

"An E... Not bad, but not an O after all. Better luck next time."

And when you do get an O, you manage to impress him

"Oh, so you decided to utilise your brain cells instead of letting them rot. Good."

Says that with a poker face but is internally screaming

"How the hell did this girl get an O?"

Is surprisingly relieved when you get an E on the next exam

"I'm the one on top. Always was, always will be. One or two Os don't scare me."

[thebibliosphere]

I was diagnosed with ADHD by my uni (and am having to wait 50 million years for an NHS diagnosis), so I'm wondering if b12 would help, but I had my bloods done a few months back (have some weird health problems, get regular blood tests), and both my b12 and folic acid are within the normal range apparently. The NHS seems to use different units than American healthcare tho. Idk if you've ever been in a similar situation, but do you think b12 would help even though I apparently don't need it? Apparently anxiety also messes with b12, and I have panic disorder, but still, normal blood test results

I can only speak from my own experience, but even when my numbers are in the "acceptable" range, I suffer the mental symptoms of having a deficiency. It's only when my numbers are at the absolute top range that I feel adequately alert. Obviously, I've got some unique problems going on, and I'm not saying that's true of everyone, I'm just saying a lot of my brain fog and other cognitive problems were ignored for decades because my numbers were "acceptable."

That said, it might be advisable to take a B complex or something of the like just to make sure you're getting enough of them. There's been some ongoing research about ADHD being linked to lower levels of B2, B6, and a few others.

Obligatory check with a doctor before starting any new medications or supplements, but taking a B complex is generally considered safe because B vitamins are water soluble, and whatever your body doesn't need, it flushes out. Basically, it may or may not help, it really depends on your own body. But it likely wouldn't hurt to try?

[thought--bubble]

The Final Scratch

Epilogue to Kitty-Cat Series

Ettore X (Neuro-Divergent Reader)

Warnings Below

Word Count: 1,707

Kitty-Cat Masterlist

Ettore Masterlist

Full Masterlist

Banners and Dividers by @arcielee

Warnings::Ettore, birthing, pregnancy, ect ect. No Spoilers

"Will she live?" Ettore growls, neck craned downwards and shoulders perched like a lion on the hunt.

Once again, he started his day by immediately stalking to Dibs' office and demanding assurances. Demanding to know that you would survive the birth.

"I..... I don't know, " Dibs responds, her hands outstretched in front of her as if protecting herself from the expected onslaught.

He stalks closer to her as she backs up towards the wall.

I will rip you limb from limb.

"Did you hear me before?" He snarls. Feeling as if she isn't taking his threats seriously and he is determined to make sure she understands fully what awaits her if she doesn't deliver what he has asked of her.

"I have done all I can, I have tracked her health. I have given her the right supplements and monitored her blood pressure. The rest.... the rest is up to god"

He huffs. God. God has never been there for him, and he doesn't expect him to show up now.

He storms out of Dibs' office and heads back to his room. Where he knows you'll be. Waiting for him. His good girl. His sweet pet.

She's dying

He tries to force the thought from his brain. The helplessness of the situation had started eating away at him lately. As you inch closer and closer to your due date. He hardly sleeps, his eating has all but stopped.

The nights are the worst. Laying beside you, listening intently to your soft, quiet breathing, Boyse's voice bouncing around in his head. "You're gonna kill her!" The words still crisp and clear. It felt like Boyse was haunting him.

She was right

He rounds the corner into his room, and there you are. Laying on your side stroking your cheek. He crawls into the bed pushing your hand away and replacing it with his own.

You purr and nuzzle into his hand like you always do, and he pulls you closer. He leans down, presses his nose to the top of your head, and breathes in your sent. The scent is comforting. Familiar and heartbreaking.

Do I have a heart to break?

The idea of love had been hammering around his head for the last few weeks. Was he in love with you? Did he love you? He was unfamiliar with the feeling, so he couldn't be sure.

What he did know was that he wanted you. He wanted to keep you right here next to him. The thought of being left on this ship without your presence was suffocating.

He rolls you over and spoons you from behind, pushing himself up close.

Mine.

You smile softly and close your eyes. You have gotten so used to this feeling that Ettore pressed up close to you is now a comfort, a need.

He bites gently into your shoulder, eliciting a small squeak from your lips. That's not the sound he's after. Ever since the first time he had you moaning, he chases the sound.

He brings his hands to your hips, sliding your panties down. One thing that had not changed about Ettore was his insatiable appetite for sex.

As always, you were pliant in his hands, a light purr emanating from your throat. He lifts your leg slightly, pulling it towards him, and rests it on his hip before sliding even closer to you.

He owns you. Mind, body, and soul, and he knows it. He grips himself tight rubbing the head of his hardened cock against the curve of your ass. Every stroke of his skin against yours, building up heat in your belly.

He pushes against your entrance gently. Uncharacteristically gentle, and slides into you.

He grips your leg slightly, lifting it as he thrusts his hips, slowly building up speed, his eyes glued to where your bodies connect.

He hears your little pants and mewls and they urge him on.

"Cmon Kitty. Give me what I want. " He croaks from behind you, snaking his hand down your leg and grazing over your pearl.

You whimper and turn your head back to look at him pleading with your eyes and he smirks.

"I know what you need. First, give me what I WANT"

He hastens his movements, the skin of his hips slapping up against your ass, his fingers hovering just above your pearl. Close enough to feel the heat from his fingers.

You pant heavily, mouth hanging open, and eyes rolled back. You arche your back, and that lines him up perfectly to pummel the spongey spot inside you, so you finally give him what he wants.

You start with low moans he can barely hear but once he finally brings his fingers down and caresses your clit you moan out loud, the sound echoing off the walls of room.

Purr my Kitty Purr

"Good, Kitty." He pants heavily behind you, his body now moving at his full pace.

You nearly shriek when your climax overtakes your body a mixture of pleasure and pain as your uterus contracts with your orgasm.

Ettore follows quickly behind with a loud grunt as he finishes inside you.

He rests his forehead against your back, breathing heavily. You can feel the rhythm of his pulse beating behind you, your own pulse relaxing.

Ettore pulls out of you, and it is followed by a gush, and you both freeze.

It's time.

Dibs had told him to expect this. This would be a sign, but he didn't want it. Wanted to stop it somehow.

You groan out in pain.

"Ok, cmon Kitty." Ettore rolls you onto your back and then shimmys you toward the edge of the bed, helping you onto your feet.

As he is walking you toward Dibs' office, Monty is standing against the wall watching the two of you.

You feel heat flush your cheeks due to the bareness of your bottom half. The embarrassment is quickly forgotten as you are hit with another contraction, your legs nearly buckling beneath you.

Ettore grips your arm tightly, nearly dragging you, his eyes locked on the door to Dibs' office.

Almost there, almost there

When you reach the office, dibs and Ettore quickly get you onto the examination chair, and from there, everything moves really fast.

Ettore watches on in horror. Your face contorted in pain, still you hardly screamed just some pained gasps and groans.

Please don't die. Please don't die

Dibs delivers a seemingly healthy baby girl as Ettore speechlessly watches on, she washes the baby and does all the necessary after birth checks.

"Check her " Ettore motions toward you as you still sit in the chair, face pale and slow moving.

Dibs hands the baby to Ettore and runs off to check you over.

He looks down at the baby in his hands and feels confused. The little thing. He made this thing. He is supposed to love and care for this thing. Two feelings he wasn't sure that he was capable of.

He looks back over toward you and sees that Dibs is done with her checks. He quickly hands the baby to you not wanting to hold her anymore.

She's still alive. She's ok

Ettore looks to Dibs for confirmation and she shrugs.

"Sometimes they survive a day or two, she seems healthy, but only time will tell, if she goes to sleep and wakes back up. Well. Thats a good sign."

The feeling of nausea swirls around his stomach again and he returns to your side. Pacing by your bed and occasionally looking down at you. The little girl in your arms making him uneasy.

You reach out your hand to him weakly, ushering him to come to you, and after a few minutes of pretending he doesn't see your hand, he finally acquiesces to your request.

You take his hand and place it gently on your daughters head. The little baby skull is so soft and gentle beneath his fingers, and he squirms a bit.

He is not made for this. Not built for this.

You start to nod off, and he shakes you by the shoulder.

"Hey, hey Kitty? Stay awake for a while longer, yeah?" The desperation in his voice rattles you slightly. You knew this would most likely kill you and you had felt at peace with that, but the pained expression on his face and the little girl in your arms had you wishing for a different outcome.

As your head lulls back again, Ettore reaches out again and tightly squeezes your arm.

Please don't sleep. Please don't sleep

You take his hand and place it on the baby again and your eyes meet his.

"So Beautiful"

Ettore's entire body goes rigid as he hears your voice for the first time. The sound weak but so sweet, so soft.

"Yeah....." He looks at you with reverance. Is this love? He can't be sure. What he does know is that you have changed him. Not entirely, but you have affected him in a way he didn't expect and isn't sure he likes. He is experiencing an entire host of new feelings. Fear, shame, pain, sorrow.

You lean your head back and close your eyes. Slowly being pulled down into the darkness of unconsciousness.

Ettore takes your hand. He's saying something, no doubt, trying to raise you from your sleep, but it's no use. You sink faster and faster into that darkness, the beautiful calm settling over your body.

Nothing hurts. All you feel is a comfortable hum that lightly vibrates through you. It feels good. It feels safe.

You reach your hand out and touch his face. There is a little stubble, you enjoy the feeling under your fingers, it's calming, familiar.

As your eyelids grow too heavy to keep open, you curl your fingers in bringing your nails to his cheek, grazing the skin.

"Hey, Kitty, stay awake." He near begs.

You bring his hand to your face and nuzzle. As a wave of euphoria passes through you.

You dig your nails into the skin of his hand at the intense sensation until you no longer have the strength and let go.

Leaving the imprint of your nails in his skin. Leaving that one final scratch.

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[sirenjose]

Analysis of the Food/Diet of the Lower Class in the Victorian era

(It was a bit tricky for me to find sufficiently detailed answers about the time and group I was looking for, as I wanted a bit more than the basics. Apologies for any mistakes)

Bread was a staple of the lower-class diet, such as wholemeal, rye bread, unleavened bread (like oatcakes), etc.. For the poor, it was often made of cheap-quality flour and likely denser than modern bread.

These could be supplemented with whatever vegetables that were cheapest as well as locally available at that time of year. Onions were among the cheapest (half penny for a dozen, cheaper if they were bruised) and available all year. They were more expensive in late spring, at which point they could be substituted by leeks. Watercress was another cheap staple (halfpenny for 4 bunches from April to January/February) and were regularly eaten at breakfast. Cabbage was cheap and easily available, along with broccoli, with lettuce and radishes available in summer. Carrots and turnips were inexpensive staples, especially in winter, and they along with cabbage were often used in stews and soups.

As for fruit, apples were the cheapest and most commonly available (from August to May). Cherries were also fairly cheap (from May to July). Pears, blackberries, and plums were available throughout autumn. Then there were gooseberries, plums and greengages (in late September), raspberries, and strawberries. Not all fruits were affordable, like oranges, which were imported from Spain in winter but were expensive and often given as gifts, and pineapples, which were a sign of wealth.

Potatoes were another staple and were prepared in various ways, including boiled, mashed, roasted, or fried. They grew well in Britain’s mild weather, making them easy to produce and sell, meaning they were cheap and thus became a frequent meal.

In terms of meat, the lower class ate it infrequently, maybe once a week, with the worst off even less often. Pork was 1 of the most common types of meat, when it could be afforded.

As a result, the poor made the most of it (using and eating every part of it). For example, a cook would boil a piece of beef or mutton with vegetables one day (probably Sunday, the only day many people had off from work), then return to the boiling pot the next day and skim the fat off from the top to be used for frying or pie crusts. Then he or she could set the liquid back to boiling, adding a stingy amount of oatmeal (one recipe recommends a tablespoon of oatmeal for every pint of liquid) to produce another nourishing meal from the broth. Recipes call it a pot liquor soup; we’d more likely call it gruel.

Gruel, made by boiling grains, like oats, rice, or barley, in water or milk, was a common food option for the poor as it required minimal ingredients and was easy to prepare. It often served as a breakfast or basic meal.

Porridge refers to a thicker and more substantial version of cooked grains, usually oats, in water or milk. It was typically cooked for a longer amount of time, resulting in a creamier and heartier consistency. It was also a popular breakfast choice due to it being nutritious and filling.

They tended to buy cuts and trimmings of meat no one else wanted, which were referred to as “block ornaments”. Examples included sheep’s organs, shanks, gristly bits, and heads. Most of these cuts were tough or didn’t have much meat on them, but they could produce a filling broth. Tripe (lining of stomach of animals like cattle, sheep, and pig), liver, meat on the bone (shin or cheek), and offal (aka organ meats like brains, hearts, sweetbreads, liver, kidneys, lungs, and intestines) were also cheap.

Chicken was rare, as the birds were kept for eggs, and usually not eaten unless the bird stopped laying eggs.

Later in the Victorian era, bacon became a popular choice at breakfast (alongside kippers aka a type of fish made from herring, eggs, and porridge).

Drippings was another common part of the lower class diet. Drippings refer to the fat that is collected as a result of cooking meat. When meat, such as beef, pork, or poultry, is roasted or grilled, the fat present in the meat melts and drips down into the pan or tray. This fat is then collected and saved, typically in a container or jar, for later use. They add flavor and richness to dishes and are commonly used for making gravies, sauces, or to enhance the flavor of roasted vegetables, as a few examples.

Since meat was a luxury, the lower class tended to go for cheaper proteins, like eggs and legumes.

Many East End homes kept hens in their backyards, with a couple hens able to produce up to a dozen eggs per home per week. Hard cheeses like cheddar was produced countrywide and so available all year round, meaning it was able to enter the diet of the lower class. It was a good protein, kept well, and even stale it could be eaten toasted with bread.

Regarding legumes (ex: beans, peas, peanuts, lentils, etc…), they were a cost-effective source of protein, fiber, and nutrients. Dried legumes were more affordable and available all year round. Beans (good from July to September) were a staple for many lower class, often cooked in stews, soups, or baked dishes. Peas (affordable from June to July) and lentils were also commonly consumed.

In terms of drinks, tea was very common. It became more affordable with the help of increased trade, improved transportation, and advancements in production methods. The poor drank tea that tended to be weaker, as they reused the tea leaves several times before disposing of them. Black tea was common, the most popular being those imported from countries like China and India.

Milk was widely consumed but not usually in large quantities, due to cost and adulteration fears (aka fear of contamination). Beer was also common (made with low alcohol content so you didn’t get drunk), even for women and older children, as water wasn’t safe to drink back them (easily contaminated, but the brewing process killed off the germs). Coffee was another option, but it tended to be more expensive than tea, beer, or milk.

Sugar became cheaper at least after 1874, but still tended to be relatively expensive, especially for those on lower incomes. Thus it remained more of a luxury item and consumed in mostly smaller quantities or for special occasions.

Butter, like sugar, would’ve also been considered a relatively expensive item, and thus not as widely consumed. Instead, they used cheaper options of fat, like lard and dripping.

Nuts were another slightly more expensive item. But there were some options if a poorer individual could afford them. Chestnuts were the most common (favorite street snack in chestnut season, running from September to January). There were also filberts and hazelnuts (available from October to May) and walnuts (seasonal). Imported almonds and brazil nuts were more expensive, but commonly consumed around Christmas as a “treat”.

Even if they could afford things like sugar, butter, or nuts, the lower class likely would’ve typically used their income on more basic necessities and things they needed for their job or life.

Individuals were paid on Saturday, and that plus the absence of refrigeration affected the weekly menu. It’s possible the lower class at least may have possessed basic cooking utensils, like a skillet, pot, or kettle. The ‘best’ and relatively most expensive meals were taken on Saturday evening and Sunday, though the poorest would often buy food at the end of Saturday trading, at the cheapest possible prices. Menu choices became cheaper through the week: purchases of food would diminish in quantity as the food budget shrank, and meat would often only be purchased once a week, though vegetables and fruit were usually purchased and consumed on a daily basis.

The very poor might purchase cheaper older fruits, vegetables, and meat on the verge of edibility, though this didn’t really diminish the nutrients in them much.

The lack of refrigeration facilities meant that meats eaten hot on any one day were almost inevitably consumed (cold) on the second day. Any more leftovers were, due to incipient spoilage, curried or hashed on the third day. Spices and the higher heat involved in frying the hash would disguise any taint to the meat and lessen the chances of food poisoning.

Men worked on average 9–10 hours per day for 5.5-6 days a week, giving a range from 50–60 hours of physical activity per week. Factoring in the walk to and from work increases the range of total hours of work-related physical activity up to 55–70 hours per week. They likely required around 5000 calories a day.

The daily wage for poor miners back then may have been around 3-4 shillings, with the weekly wage then around 18-24 shillings. In dollars, 3-4 shillings was likely around $1. In today’s money, 3-4 shillings a day may be around £4 to £5 or $5 to $6.

[toptierteaser]

Fatass Control

He enjoys it. The view from the Control Room, his little kingdom. Surrounded on all sides by screens displaying the surveillance projections of the men in his charge…his personal ‘Guinea Pigs,’ he likes to call them. He smiles as he leans back in his chair, folding his strong, muscular arms behind his head, propping his big feet up on the desk as the eyes on his handsome face alter from one screen to the next. Just the thought of them…of the power he harbors over them, the knowledge of what he can do to them at any given time, on a simple whim makes him smirk with pleasure. And as he settles in for his shift, heart hammering with excitement and anticipation, he lets his eyes move from one screen to the other, from one overblown ass to the next as his fingers tease the control switches beside him, as he weighs his options of who to toy with first…

                Who should it be today? He looks at the top screen, displaying a fatty in his late college years, his distended belly and fat, swollen ass bursting out against his gray sweatshirt and sweatpants…the only things he is capable of squeezing his overblown body into since his rapid, recent weight gain. The controller’s eyes move to the next screen where a big ginger man cowers away in the bathroom, panting as he desperately attempts to close the button on his dress pants, ashamed and embarrassed as his voluptuous belly struggles against his waistband, his overindulgence at lunch catching him in the act of gluttony. He looks again, from the chubby businessman on the screen now to the man huffing along on the treadmill, his jiggling rolls warring against his exercise clothes as the fat on his enormous ass wobbles, his thunderous thighs rubbing as he attempts to do something resembling a run.

                “At least fat fuck number three is putting in a little effort today,” he snickers, watching the former jock’s pathetic version of athleticism. The same cannot be said for the others, though, as they do their usual, wiggling in their seats as they try to get comfortable, picking at the undies and shorts that ride up the ballooning asses that swallow them up. Struggling against buttons and seatbelts, or desperately whimpering as they try to put on their shoes. But none dare to do the fattest thing he can think of…none dare to stuff their chunky faces. They know he is watching them, keeping tabs on their gluttony…that he will punish them for their weakness and their greed, the moment they break and begin to stuff their tubby faces with more fat, fast food!

                He adjusts in his seat, calming himself. His job is to hold these porkers accountable…at least it was, when the obese men first signed up for the program. Each of them had heard of the results, had seen their coworkers and friends shed the pounds at a rapid weight. They had waddled their quivering asses as quickly as they could to the stores where they could sign up to have their ears implanted with an irremovable headpiece, their brains injected with signals that could control their appetites and fatigue receptors, their fat cells connected to “alterers,” which could supplement a rise or fall in swelling, in fat storage…

                At first the results had been dramatic and quick. The controllers spent their days encouraging the plump men to exercise, eat right, engage in healthier activities…and their clients reaped the benefits of their hard work! Nothing like taking the easy route for fatboys like these; handsome heads on blowfish-like-bodies, whose only thoughts seemed to be about their next opportunities to stuff their faces with greasy food. But then, corporate stepped in. He and the other controllers had been doing too good a job, and other drugs which would result in more rapid weight-loss were starting to take the place of their program. They were starting to lose customers, and corporate certainly couldn’t have that. So they encouraged their employees to…prolong the formerly-recent results. Maybe even reverse them if it came to it…

                He had been surprised by the instructions, even resentful. So his job was to help a bunch of fat fucking porkers who couldn’t keep their chubby hands out of the cookie jar to get even fatter? He scoffed at the idea. But that all changed after his first bout of tampering with his customer’s weight. He had caught the man bingeing, hiding out in his car so his roommates couldn’t see him cheating on his diet. And he had taken the opportunity, not to speak words of redirection or encouragement, but to whisper into the mic that connected directly to the man’s ear, “you know you want it fatty. You know you want another burger. You know you want to shove down another fistful of fries!” And to his surprise, the fat fuck obliged, gobbling down every greedy mouthful in the bag until he had to lean back, his belly puffing out between his waistband and his shirt as he looked at the chubby, round results of his greed. Far fatter than the little binge could account for…

                He hadn’t even realized as he was whispering what his fingers were doing, that they had wrapped around the control knobs, that they were pushing buttons. That they had made his client’s fat cells swell so much that by the time he stripped and stepped onto the scale, he had gone up twenty-five pounds.

                A sudden, intense twinge excited him and made him realize that there was a flicker of enjoyment in teasing the fatboy, in calling out his greed, in blowing him up with the touch of a button and even gaslighting the flustered fat fuck afterward into believing that it was his own fault for gorging on the bag of burgers, despite the impossibility of him putting on twenty-five pounds in a day!

                That moment had blossomed and ballooned as rapidly as his clients’ backsides, as he realized just how much he enjoyed toying with their bodies and their brains, and tampering with their appetites. Now, as he sits in his chair, surveying his collection of struggling, fatties, his harem of young, handsome piggies who were growing right before his eyes, he leans into the feeling, his toes clenching, his fingers itching for the control panels as he weighs who his next target will be…

                Who to fuck with? His eyes move from the chubby swimmer barely able to fit into his swimsuit to the TA, hardly able to keep his buttons from flying and hitting his students to the delivery man whose lips wet as he smells the aroma of food steaming from the bags beside him.

                His index finger tickles the top of one of the knobs. “Eenie…” He looks at the groomsman, desperately trying to fit into his tuxedo. ”…meenie” A mechanic tries to wiggle his blubbery body beneath a car as his coworkers tease his chub. “…miney…” A fatass sweats as he tries to decide at the lunch counter between a bowl of pasta and a salad.

                He leans in, a sneer curling the lips on his chiseled, pretty face. who should it be? He would have to deserve it, of course…and while he enjoys watching them all struggle, none of them seem to be doing anything that would warrant punishment. Who will be the one acting enough like a fat fuck to tip his hand?

                And then he sees him…the former model, the social media influencer. The handsomest of all…or at least he was until he blew his fat body up like a pastry! Well, his face was still handsome…and the rest of his body looked like an overinflated Thanksgiving Day Parade float.

                He watches as the ridiculously-cute fatty strides into his room, fat ass wedged into the designer underwear he could fit into about a hundred pounds ago. Flustered as he crosses his apartment, but apparently not caring or remembering that the controller can see what he is doing. The chub’s thick arms wrapped tightly around something, as if trying to hide it from view of the camera. The controller leans in, adjusting the camera to reveal that the object is a gigantic bucket of fried chicken accompanied by potato wedges. All deep fried. All fattening.

                He leans into the screen, about to burst from his excitement. The overfed model jiggles his fat body onto the bed, leaning back as his belly takes up half his lap, as his thighs fight each other for space, as his man tits and chubby arms battle over the bucket. The piglet reaches his hand in, drawing first a chicken leg and then a potato wedge in the other. He opens the plump, pretty lips on his handsome face…

                “Do it, fatty,” says the controller into the mic. And he watches as the fataboy sinks his teeth into the chicken, ripping a chunk greedily!

                That’s all he needs! The controller flicks the switch and as the fatty binges, he watches as his skin stretches, his fat rolls swelling, the pudge rapidly blimping around his swelling body. He eats and eats as the controller whispers in his ear. “That’s right piggy…eat like your life depends on it fatboy,” the settings so low that the fatass won’t be able to even register that he is being talked to…commanded to act like the true, fat piggy boy that he is.

                It isn’t until the former model is done stuffing his face that he even realizes the change. But when he does, the controller can see him grow flustered in an instant. The porker leans back, sweating, grabbing at his belly, eyes wide with shock, as if unable to believe what he sees before him.

                The controller smiles, satiated by the handsome fat fuck’s flustered state. But it doesn’t keep him satisfied for long. In an instant, he turns his attention to another, to the fat businessman still struggling to button his pants. He flicks a switch and laughs as the man’s belly blubbers out by a couple inches, sending the button flying wildly across the bathroom, accompanied by a satisfying r-i-i-i-i-p of the lardass’s trousers!

                And then he unleashes all his might, flicking this switch and that, whispering into each of his client’s ears as he sends them, one by one, into a tizzy, a feeding frenzy, watching his own symphony; the smacking of food, the squealing of shock, the huffing flustered whimpering as they try to run of the pudge. A mosaic of helpless, flustered fatties who balloon before his eyes, who burst against their clothes as they make total embarrassments of themselves in front of their friends, as they rip their clothes and pop their buttons and blub up like a farm full of fat, handsome piggies who only grow fatter before the controller’s eyes!

[tr0ubledberry]

Hi friends. I’m 21F and have been struggling with my body image since 2009 which led me to develop anorexia around 2014. I’ve been struggling ever since and have tried every trick and diet out there but have finally settled on my own so I thought I’d share it. First of all, recovery is a lie. There was a point in my life where I fully recovered but made me fat… it was nice not to worry about calories and all that but the pros outweigh the cons of an ED if done correctly. So think of your ED as a lifelong friend. In order to have an ED successfully for a long period of time you must go about it healthily. I know this is somewhat contradictory. I’m gonna include just some general tips, advice, and food alternatives. In a separate post I’ll be listing my favorite low kcal recipes so stay tuned.

~

GENERAL TIPS

•Drink water before, during, and after meals. This is absolutely crucial.

•During this period it’s important to spend extra time and effort on maintaining your vaginal health, immune system, fertility, and skincare !! Really important not to neglect these things especially vaginal care >.<

•Calories matter but make sure to eat nutritious foods. Must have a good judgment on when to splurge on kcals or when to go for an alternative. For ex: splurging on healthy foods that are a lot of kcals vs unhealthy processed foods that are low kcal.

•It’s good to strive for 1200 kcals or less. If it’s a cheat day or you’re feeling lenient then aim for around 1600 kcals. Never ever go over 2000 kcals.

•if you’re a foodie like me then you *have* to find creative and unique ways to curb your cravings. Otherwise your mental health will plummet. If you’re not satisfied then you’re either gonna keep eating or be miserable

•Remember your brain needs at least 330 kcals to function properly so if you’re feeling slow or disoriented then definitely have a snack or meal.

•Best drinks to have are water, sparkling water, tea, and coffee.

•If you eat over your calorie limit don’t fret, it’s not the end of the world. Just either work out or purge. Keep purging to a limit and don’t do it more than once a day. Ideally less purging is better so keep it for emergencies.

•Using apps such as my fitness pal are great for seeing what nutrients you’re deficient in or going overboard in. However I’ve found I lose more weight when I’m not using the app because I’m thinking about food less. However everybody is different and I would recommend at least checking out the application if you haven’t already.

•Vitamins are your bestie too!! I take a couple supplements to make sure I’m getting the vitamins I need for longevity.

•Cut down on silly calories like sauces and drinks by using alternatives. Also you can pretty much find a low kcal version of anything these days if you look hard enough.

•If you love flavor then these simple things will help like ~ seasoning, low kcal hot sauce such as Tabasco or sriracha, soy sauce, etc.

~

CRAVING ALTERNATIVES

•Juice or sugary drinks ~ low sugar Gatorade, fruit flavored teas iced with extra tea bags to give it extra flavor

•Soda ~ flavored sparkling water with powder or liquid drink mix such as crystal light strawberry lemonade drink mix

•Starbucks ~ just making my own mixed coffee drinks and sweet tea drinks saves so many calories

•Dessert ~ Gerber biscuits arrowroot (taste like shortbread), Gerber lil biscuits, cottage cheese, chocolate covered fruit or nuts

•Chips ~ Gerber’s Lil Crunchies Mild Chedder (basically cheese/ cheeto puffs), quest chips, or half a serving size of normal chips

•Ice cream ~ strawberry halo top

•Chocolate ~ alter eco or dark chocolate coconut fudge

•Mayo ~ miracle whip or vegan mayo

•Rice ~ cauliflower or broccoli rice

•Pasta ~ Chickpea pasta